


pickin' up good vibrations

by leiascully



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Closet Sex, F/F, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:38:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hill knows the helicarrier better than anyone.  This works out well for Natasha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pickin' up good vibrations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bendingwind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendingwind/gifts).



> Timeline: N/A  
> A/N: For bendingwind, as a very belated New Year's present.  
> Disclaimer: _The Avengers_ and all related characters are property of Marvel Studios and Joss Whedon. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Natasha is really tempted to ignore the text from Hill. Really, really tempted. It's rare downtime for her. She's playing darts with Clint, combining work with play, because even though he went down after the third one hit him, it's still pretty entertaining. He twitches a little when a new dart hits home right in his left ass cheek. 

He did volunteer to test her new tranquilizers and all. Maybe it wasn't exactly the time or place of his choosing, but those are the breaks. She's glad for the excuse to keep her hand in. He really should have known better. 

Her phone buzzes again and Natasha grumbles to herself and pulls it out of her pocket. Clint's had enough, and Natasha enjoys her freedom too much to risk Hill sending her on some mission to god knows where, like cutting her off is such a punishment. Hell, she hopes Hill throws her into some briar patch - better than dealing with Tony's quips and Thor's hair all over everything.

_Meet me in the port corridor by the rear rotor._

Natasha rolls her eyes. Her phone buzzes. _Now._

 _On my way_ , she texts back, tucking away the rest of her darts and sauntering on down the hall. It's tempting, so very tempting, to do a little target practice on the drones at their monitors, but she walks past. Hill likes to take any minor infraction out of Natasha's hide, as if they're a real army and as if Hill has any real power over her. Obviously, nothing Hill does has any real effect, but every now and then Natasha plays along.

It's a big ship. It takes a few minutes to make her way back to the port corridor all the way at the stern, but Natasha knows the shortcuts by now. She slips through an access panel and wends her way through the pipes and wires. It's easier without Bruce thundering after her. She almost manages to surprise Hill, who's slouching against a bulkhead.

"Subtle," Hill tells her. "Were you hoping I'd been rendered deaf since yesterday? You know sound travels pretty well through metal."

"Thanks for the physics lesson," Natasha snarks. "I'll keep that in mind next time I'm slamming someone into a wall."

"Funny you should mention that," Hill says. She jerks her head toward a hatch. "In there."

"Yes, ma'am," Natasha says. She's got some idea of how this is going to go now, but she makes sure her tone is as insolent as possible. She's not going to deny Hill the satisfaction of feeling like Natasha deserves what she gets. She hauls the hatch open and steps through into what amounts to a maintenance closet. There's a big tool case built into one wall, and she can hear the rotor droning.

"I found this my first week here," Hill says conversationally. "They said that the experienced technicians can tell what's wrong just by feel." She presses her palm against the bulkhead. Natasha rolls her eyes and follows suit. The hum of the rotor buzzes through her hand, surprisingly strong. The rest of the helicarrier is shielded, she knows - she's squeezed her way through enough insulated crawl spaces to know how much padding they've put in to soak up the rattle. But this room clearly doesn't have that. Her bones nearly buzz with the strength of the vibrations. Suddenly she knows where this is going.

"Strip," Hill says in the same tone, as if they're talking about the weather. 

Natasha still has a couple of darts left. She could deal with this and be gone before Hill's eyes had fluttered closed. But she respects the effort here. She skins out of her clothes and lets Hill shove her up against the wall. Hill's knee nudges Natasha's thighs apart, and wouldn't you know it, there's a convenient bump on the wall that probably houses something important. Hill's clearly been here more than a few times, to find it that fast. The bump is the perfect height and the perfect shape; it fits perfectly right under the arch of Natasha's pelvis, buzzing against her clit. She reaches down and adjusts and damn, it's so good already. 

The thrum of the ship is deep and constant, rumbling through her. It's different from the high-intensity buzz she usually gets from her toys, but she likes it. Hill presses up behind her, her thigh still pushing Natasha's apart and her hips anchoring Natasha's. Hill wraps her fingers in Natasha's hair and pulls until Natasha is arched back just enough that her nipples graze the bulkhead. Natasha lets herself moan a little. She's tingling from her knees to her collarbones, and Hill is warm and solid against her, jutting into Natasha in all the right places. Her hand wound through Natasha's hair clutches tighter and Natasha moans again at the prickle of it. You don't get this far along in a career like hers without an appreciation of pain.

"Enjoying yourself?" Hill murmurs, nuzzling along the edge of Natasha's ear before sinking her teeth in. Natasha jerks back against Hill, just to keep things interesting. It doesn't hurt enough to merit it, but she's here and Hill's making an effort, so Natasha might as well play along. And Hill's teeth are sharp and her hands are strong - maybe if Natasha encourages her, Hill will end up putting them to better use. Hill seems to like Natasha's response - she pushes Natasha hard against the bulkhead, still holding Natasha's hair. Natasha's spine is one long curve and she can feel the sweet hum in her bones. 

Hill kisses up and down the side of Natasha's neck. Natasha groans and grinds her hips against the bulkhead. 

"You want more?" Hill murmurs.

"Fuck, yes," Natasha grits out. She's been trying to play along like a good girl, but it really is working. The buzz of the metal teases her nipples and makes her pelvis rattle; the steel is cool against her breasts and hot where she's pressed against it. It's not the kind of situation she has a lot of patience with. She wants to come fast and she wants to come hard. Fortunately, Hill seems inclined to help her accomplish her goal. 

Hill presses hard against Natasha's back, the zipper of her suit scraping against Natasha's skin. Somehow she manages to mold herself to the tight curve of Natasha's body without disturbing Natasha's perfect positioning. She nips at Natasha's earlobe again as her fingers trail down Natasha's ribs and over the curve of Natasha's hips. 

"How badly do you want it?" she asks, her fingertips grazing the back of Natasha's thigh.

"I'll owe you one," Natasha growls.

"Good enough for me," Hill tells her. Her fingers ease between Natasha's folds, teasing and tempting, and then she pushes roughly into Natasha. Natasha groans. God, Hill knows how to give her exactly what she wants. Usually in a way that's calculated to drive Natasha just exactly crazy, which is unfortunate, but at least she doesn't have to worry about cleanup afterwards. At least not in the way that involves disposing of a body. Natasha appreciates that.

Hill twists her fingers inside Natasha and moans quietly into the little hollow behind Natasha's ear. Natasha lets herself shiver, just to gratify Hill, and spreads her legs wider, sinking down against Hill's palm. Hill fucks Natasha hard, somehow staying focused enough to keep her tight hold on Natasha's hair so that the push and pull of pain and pleasure is constant and perfect. The rumble of the ship pulses through her and it's goddamn amazing. She breathes into the ache of her neck and the sting of the way the metal bulkhead rubs against her skin. Pleasure pulses through her with every rough thrust of Hill's fingers. Her bones are rattling against each other; her nipples are tingling.

Hill seems to know just how Natasha wants to be touched, when to slow down to let Natasha catch her breath and when to slam Natasha up the wall and sink her teeth into Natasha's neck. Every moment brings her closer and closer to the edge. Natasha loves orgasms, loves that for a few gasping moments, she is nothing but desperate breaths and waves of pleasure. No responsibilities, no memories, no pain: just sensation and release. She isn't any more extraordinary than anyone else in bed, and she relishes that chance to be as vulnerable and joyous as everyone else. Fortunately, Hill's happy to give her the opportunity. Natasha appreciates that. 

She turns her face just enough to catch Hill's mouth. Hill kisses her fiercely, her tongue sliding against Natasha's. Natasha pulls Hill's lower lip into her mouth, sucking at it until Hill moans. Hill shoves Natasha flat against the bulkhead, until Natasha's sure that Hill can feel the vibration of the ship too. They're both shivering together. Pleasure floods through her, better than superserum. Natasha's so close she can almost taste it, and she finally raises one hand to twist her fingers into Hill's hair, so that they're both holding each other hostage. Hill gasps and Natasha grins, which makes Hill push her even harder against the bulkhead. Her fingers shove into Natasha over and over until Natasha's too far gone to keep kissing Hill. She gasps, her fingers tightening into Hill's hair, and then her knees give out and she's sliding down the bulkhead, only Hill keeping her from falling too fast. 

Natasha slumps against the bulkhead, reeling. The pulse of the rotor buzzes through her brain. Little aftershocks shimmer through her body; the deck has just the right amount of vibration to keep her on the edge. She looks up at Hill, who smirks down at her. 

"Too bad that zipper doesn't go all the way down," Natasha murmurs. "This could be a lot more fun for you." She reaches up and strokes the inside of Hill's thigh.

Hill smiles down at her and offers her a hand up. "You owe me one."  
Natasha grunts. At least this one will be a lot more pleasant than some of the other favors she's owed over the years. She slips back into her clothes as Hill watches. It's possible that that smirk is permanently curved into Hill's lips at this point. Natasha briefly considers sticking her with one of the darts still concealed in her sleeve, but she'd much rather not have to drag Hill anywhere, and this room is a little bit too convenient to give up just yet.

"When do you expect to call in this favor?" Natasha asks.

"Surprise me," Hill says, and it's exactly the wrong thing and exactly the right thing to say. Natasha can't help smiling.

"Go," Hill tells her. "Five minutes. Try not to permanently incapacitate any bystanders."

"You know me too well," Natasha says. "Fine. I won't break your toys."

Hill rolls her eyes and Natasha's the one with the smirk now. She readies her darts and checks the corridor. She smiles to herself all the way back to the lounge where Clint is just waking up.

"Wha?" he says muzzily. "Wha happened?" He rubs at his eyes and then sees Natasha. "Ah."

"Well, Clinton, if you can't run with the big dogs..." Natasha says. 

He glares at her. "Bros don't trank each other, bro."

She pats the couch cushions. "Come on. I DVRed a show you're going to like."

"No more darts?" he asks.

"No promises," she says, but he drags himself over to the couch anyway. Natasha grins. Her best buddy, bad television, and delicious sexy revenge to plot: not a bad life, these days.


End file.
